So it’s been two weeks of arguing with various companies, but they finally emailed last night to say I could pick it up in the store, meaning I reluctantly dragged myself here.
I know she’s going to lose her shit about how much iPads cost, but I have thought this through. And she can’t be mad if I’ve thought it through, right?
She does therapy through video calls since her doctor is in Washington, but because she doesn’t have her own, she has to borrow Sabrina’s. I can’t always let her borrow mine because I use it to take notes in class and it’s got my entire schedule built into it.
That brings me to the second bonus: a digital planner. I already know that her planner evolved from a sticker chart, but I feel like it’s time for it to evolve again. I think, no, I’mconvincedthat if she can easily move around her plans—like she’d be able to with a iPad—she’ll be more inclined to be flexible with herself.
It’s some psychology shit, I know, but once she stops stressing about it and uses it, it’ll be a gift she can benefit from.
I understand her worry. Our disposable income is not the same, they’re not even close. She once said she couldn’t skip work becausewe don’t all have trust funds,and she’s right. I’m not expecting her to buy me something expensive, though. I’m not expecting her to buy me anything because her being here is more than enough.
She sobbed at the idea of me being alone on Christmas. I have a girlfriend that cries over my hypothetical unhappiness. How is this real life? She must care about me a lot, or that’s what I’ve convinced myself, anyway, so I’m going to tell her I’m in love with her tomorrow. Christmas feels like the right time to be expressing feelings, right?
Right?
The drive back to the house takes far too long for my liking. There isn’t any traffic, I’m just impatient and itching to get back to my girl. I wonder how much of the house she’s snooped through while I’ve been gone. I’m fully expecting her to be in the living room with a collection of things she wants an explanation for when I get back. I know she’s desperate to see some baby pictures, or at least some evidence that I was once a child, since there aren’t any pictures of me in the house.
Luckily, she’s nowhere to be found when I finally walk through the door, which gives me the chance to stash the bag under my bed, ready to be wrapped later.
I plod through the rest of the house, listening out for her, but each place I check, she’s not there. Eventually, having lost all patience, I pull out my phone and click her name.
“Hello?” she huffs.
“Hey, where are you?” I ask, trying to listen for a response over the sound of wind on her side of the phone. “I just got back, and I can’t find you.”
“I’m trying to make friends with a deer, but your call scared it off,” she grumbles quietly.
“A deer? Where are you?”
“Skating by the edge of the woods,” she says, making my heart sink to my stomach. “I was going to have a Snow White moment and everything.”
I feel sick as I start rushing to the back of the house, heading toward the lake as quickly as my body will take me. “Anastasia, it isn’t safe. Carefully move away from there.”
But I don’t think she hears me, because the phone goes dead and, in the distance, I hear a bloodcurdling scream.
* * *
They saythat when something traumatic happens, time stands still, but I don’t agree.
I can feel every single second fly by me as my boots crunch into the snow. Every thought in my head seems to be occurring at the exact same time and I can’t concentrate through the chaos.
She’s strong, she’s so fucking strong, and she can swim; I’ve seen her swim with my own eyes. The luminous orange life ring catches my eye as I approach the lake. Mom made Dad install it when Sasha started walking; she was terrified that having this much water so close by was an accident waiting to happen. I tug it off its stand and carry on toward the woods.
I couldn’t even say how long it’s been since I heard her scream.
The life ring is bouncing off my hip and I’m sprinting faster than I ever have before, my breath in front of me clouding my view, but then I see it. A big gaping hole in the ice, fractured pieces floating around on the water. Every safety video, article, or presentation—anyone with a bit of common sense—will tell you that you don’t run on thin or uncertain ice. But I’m not uncertain, I know this water better than anyone, which is how I knew she was in danger.
I fall to my knees where I know the ice thins and crawl toward the hole, my heart is beating so hard it might beat right out of my chest. The only thing I can think is,For fuck’s sake,pleasebe alive.
I’m inches from where the ice has splintered when the water begins to ripple, and her head emerges, her terrified eyes locking with mine before her head submerges again. She’s panicking. I’m fucking panicking as I reach my arm into the water, feeling for any part of her that I can latch on to.
Nothing.
I’m trying to keep my weight even, off my front, all the shit I’m supposed to do as I throw the ring onto the water, hoping that somehow she can find it. Going in after her isn’t the smartest decision, my body could go into shock, too, but it’s the only one I have right now, so not being weighed down by clothes is the best way for me to survive this.
For us both to survive this.
My jacket is off when the rope of the life ring starts to move beside me. I roll over, careful not to crack the ice beneath me, and gasp when I see her tiny hand clinging to the edge of the ring, skin blue against the bright orange surface. Her other hand joins it and I see the crown of her head, so I pull the rope and watch her travel to the edge.